


Feels Like Falling

by LiteraryEden



Series: Come Crashing [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryEden/pseuds/LiteraryEden
Summary: He tried—dear God, he tried—but he could never manage to avoid her. She was everywhere; in the kitchen reading at the table, in the dining room tapping on her laptop, in the bathroom brushing her teeth. And she was always so sickeningly nice; asking him how he was; if his food was okay; if he was enjoying his book. He always responded with silence, even when Saeyoung kicked him under the table, but ever since that day in the living room she didn’t seem to mind. It was maddening.





	Feels Like Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This is still an un-betaed, angsty dabble in an unrequited (mostly) Saeran/MC relationship post-Saeyoung’s route. This chapter is related to Come Crashing (though future chapters may be one-offs), and is rated M for language only.
> 
> Genre: Angst, with hints at romance. Larger hints this time. You know, kinda.

Saeran treasured the solitude that came with morning. In the cool light of dawn, he could walk through the house in peace, free of the constant supervision that had become so much like a prison. Unfortunately, the feeling never lasted. The part of him that craved companionship was never far away, and it grew closer and closer the longer his isolation stretched on. By the time early afternoon came around, Saeran would always find himself in the living room, perched on the arm of the couch, watching the clock tick. He would count the seconds of his dwindling privacy like gems slipping into an abyss, and still wonder when Saeyoung would drag himself out of bed.

Not that he was looking forward to the surveillance; or the  _noise_. But when it was quiet, it was too easy to forget. Forget that Mint Eye was gone. Forget he was free now, or whatever he was supposed to call it.

Most days, his new life felt less like freedom and more like a living Picasso, a cluster of shapes and colors that formed a complete picture yet remained somehow distorted. His time spent awake was miserable, a constant trial of sorting out the parts that fit from those that didn’t, but his time spent asleep was far worse. 

Unknown lived there still, a shadow of instinct therapy had yet to purge. His voice was loud with the rising sun, urging him out of bed and to his laptop, pushing his fingers toward the keys. It was only once he opened his eyes that Saeran remembered. The flash of gunmetal. The sharp sound of an ending life. The truth.

He was a murderer.

Sometimes, he wished he would stop waking. Unknown was familiar even if he was terrifying. It was easy to hide within him. To forget his sanity and his guilt. This wellness was a  _curse_. It had left him with nothing. His Savior was gone; his purpose, his anger. It had all been stripped away from him, the lingering pieces gathered and sewn back into the shape of Saeran Choi.

But he didn’t know how to be Saeran Choi anymore. The skin didn’t fit the same. It was empty, fragile, straining over his shoulders like an old shirt, no matter how his doctors mended and darned.

His therapist did her best to assure him his discomfort was normal. All part of a process he would eventually work through. For now, she insisted, he should find comfort in little changes and slight improvements. He wanted to tell her to shove it.

Saeyoung was just as bad, watching him with too hopeful eyes. They measured him, comparing him to the memory of what once was. Saeran could hardly look at him most days. That measuring kept his heart hardened, ready for the day Saeyoung would realize Saeran was gone for good and lock him up somewhere. Somewhere far from the RFA.

Far from her.

The sudden image of her face made him cringe. Out of all of them, she was the worst. Nosy.  _Pushy_. Poking into his business, showering him with smiles and kindness he didn’t want.

“I think you look happier, you know? More… awake, maybe? I’m not sure how to explain it.” MC said one morning when they found themselves crammed into a booth at Saeyoung’s favorite donut place. Saeran barely heard her over his brother’s chewing.

He didn’t know how to respond, so he said nothing, looking out the window instead. Outside, a group of children rushed through the snow, heaving lumps of white powder at each other as they laughed and slipped. Christmas was only a few weeks off and red and green lights draped over the slouching, snow trodden roofs that framed the street. The smallest child stopped in front of the candy shop, a snowball slipping from his mitten as he reached up to touch the door. Saeran felt a tug of nostalgia he couldn’t place.

“Saeran?”

He turned back to find MC staring at him, teeth worrying her lower lip as she fiddled idly with her slouchy cap. She’d yanked the white knit on as she’d rushed out to meet them that morning, trapping down a mess of unruly bedhead. He remembered the delicate way her dark waves had bent around her face —

“Saeran? Are you alright?”  MC tilted her head and her hair slipped over her shoulder, the ends narrowly missing her glass of orange juice.

“Yeah.” Saeran cleared his throat and pushed his plate away, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Just thinking.”

Saeyoung reached out and snatched the half-eaten donut from Saeran’s plate, stuffing it into his mouth with a hunger that belied the two he’d already devoured. Saeran scowled, but the pastry massacre didn’t distract MC. She shook her head and smiled at him, and Saeran felt his ears warm under her scrutiny.

“Not great with compliments, are you?”

He shrugged and sunk back into his seat, increasing the space between them. 

“Guess not.”

She chuckled; a soft, airy sound that filled the room with music.

At some point, Saeran had begun categorizing the many types of her laughter. This was one of his favorites. Delicate and warm. It was a reminder of her gentleness; a peek into the parts of her that were tender instead of blinding and bright. Hearing it eased the cord in his chest that always tightened whenever she was around—

_Christ._

Christ, he was doing it again.

Saeran shook a hand through his hair and turned his scowl to the window. The children were long gone, and nothing was left to distract him from his mortification. He clenched his teeth.  _Get a grip_.

MC spoke to him again, probably something witty and nauseatingly MC like, and Saeran nodded as though he hadn’t wandered off into a realm of complete lunacy. It must have been the right response because she went back to chattering with Saeyoung as soon as his brother’s mouth was empty. Saeran tried not to look too relieved.

“Soooo, MC,” Saeyoung sang, turning to face her, “I’m still waiting on an answer.”

MC snorted into her orange juice. “I’m not moving in with you just because you need a new maid, Saeyoung.”

Saeran choked on his own spit, but the sound of Saeyoung’s whining muffled his sputtering.

“What?! That is  _so_  not—”

“I’ve seen your laundry pile. And the dishes. And the soda can tower in your office.”

“But Vanderwood hasn’t been coming around as much! And I’m no good at— “

The look she leveled at him cut the joke short. Saeran was still trying to breathe. He took a long pull from his water glass.

“Alright, look,” Saeyoung said, laughing, “I’m not trying to tie you to my mop. I don’t know if I even  _own_  a mop… Okay, okay! Put the fork down! I’m just saying we could see each other more if you lived with me.  _Annnnd_  you would live somewhere you can stretch without touching every room—”

“Hey—!”

“Your apartment is a closet, MC—”

“It is not! It’s normal apartment size—!”

“ _For a mouse_. A tiny one—”

“W-Wait.” Ragged and rasping, Saeran’s voice cut through their banter like a shadow, effectively killing the argument.

Saeyoung turned to stare at him, obviously confused by the change in mood. “What’s up?”

“…What do you mean, “Move in”?”

His brother stared at him as though he’d grown two heads. “What do you mean “what do I mean”? We talked about this last week, remember?”

“No.” From the corner of his eye, Saeran saw MC flinch at his tone. He didn’t care if he hurt her feelings. The thought of her living in the same house was enough to—

“We were in the kitchen. You were reading, I think...?”

“I don’t remember—”

“ _Oh, yeah!_ It was Tuesday. I know because—"

“ _I don’t remember_.”

“…What?” Saeyoung blinked at him. “You said, ‘I don’t care, just go away’.”

“Then I wasn’t listening—"

“Boys?” They glanced over to find MC had stood. She teetered on her toes for a moment, her coat tucked under her arm. “Why don’t you talk more about it alone, okay? I should head out anyway.”

“MC…”

“It’s alright, Saeyoung.” She leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. Saeran looked away. “I don’t want Saeran to be uncomfortable. It’s his home too.”

Saeran had to fight every guilty feeling he had to keep from watching her leave.

 

* * *

 

She was moving in with them. God fucking save him.

Saeran didn’t look up from his book when the door opened, his eyes fixed on the tiny ‘217’ printed at the bottom of the page. He tried to focus on his breathing as her footsteps clipped down the hallway, reciting a lesson from his latest therapy session.

He was in control.

_Five seconds, inhale._

His emotions were his.

_Five seconds, exhale._

He was safe.

_Five seconds—_

She stepped into the room, a smudge of gray at the corner of his vision, and Saeran’s lungs hitched. He closed his eyes and tried to remember where he’d left off.

He was safe. He was safe.

He was safe even as a storm swept across the floor and propped her suitcases against the wall.

“Whew,” MC said with a laugh, “Think I brought enough stuff?”

The couch dipped as she sunk into it and Saeran’s eyes flew open, his heart crawling up into his throat. She heaved a small sigh and rested her feet on the coffee table.

The middle section of the couch provided a barrier of cushiony space, but Saeran’s skin prickled all the same at her nearness. Beneath the fringe of his bangs, he saw her turn to smile at him, her eyes bright as flashlights. The spine of his book creaked beneath his tightening fingers.  

“Koontz fan?” she asked, nodding toward the novel.

Saeran said nothing, hoping she would take the hint. She didn’t.

“I prefer King myself, but I enjoyed the Odd Thomas series.”

Again, her words faded into silence. It filled the space between them like smoke, and Saeran wished Saeyoung would get off his computer and come collect her. Maybe then he could  _breathe_ —

There was a sudden bowing in the cushions and Saeran’s gaze shot over to her, eyes blown wide in panic. She was bent over the cushion between them, her fingers pushing at the cover of his book as she tried to get a peek at the title. She was close,  _so close_ , and Saeran swallowed hard, trying to push his heart back down into place. Her lashes were long and dark, darker than her hair; he watched them shiver as her eyes read.

“Ah-ha!” she declared in a whisper, “I knew it. _In Odd We Trust_. Good prequel.”

MC’s gaze lifted to catch his glare and the light in her eyes wavered, dimming as though a circuit had shorted in their wiring. She recoiled, the pressure of her fingers slipping away, and he nearly groaned in relief.

Back on her side of the couch, she studied him silently, her brow furrowing deeper the longer she stared.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a moment, “I shouldn’t have just… “

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and chewed at it, concern etching into her face. Saeran watched her chest rise and fall as her mind worked, counting the breaths like seconds between thunderclaps.

“Anyway, I’m sorry.” 

She stood and walked back to her luggage, snapping the handles into place. When she spoke again, she didn’t turn to look at him. 

“Enjoy your book.  I, uh… I should throw this stuff in Saeyoung’s room.”

She took a step to leave.

“Do you need help?” The words escaped him before he could stop them. He inwardly cursed when she paused.

The ticking clock filled the silence between them.

“No,” she whispered. Relief mixed with joy in her warm voice and Saeran felt his heart slam into his ribs. “Thank you, though.”

She left the room, wheeling her luggage out of sight and he returned to his book. He tried to focus, but there was a humming in his ears, like the aftermath of an electrical surge. A half hour went by before he realized he was still staring at page 217. He swore and snapped the book shut.  

 

* * *

 

He tried—dear God, he  _tried_ —but he could never manage to avoid her. She was everywhere; in the kitchen reading at the table, in the dining room tapping on her laptop, in the bathroom brushing her teeth. And she was always so sickeningly  _nice_ ; asking him how he was; if his food was okay; if he was enjoying his book. He always responded with silence, even when Saeyoung kicked him under the table, but ever since that day in the living room she didn’t seem to mind.

_She didn’t mind._

Not when he ignored her. Not when he glared at her (which he did often). Not even when he saw her coming down the hall and purposely turned to walk the other way. It was like she was determined to like him. To  _befriend_ him.

It was maddening.

 

* * *

 

“Saeran!”

He glanced up from behind the refrigerator door, his fingers still fishing for a water bottle. MC was smiling at him from across the kitchen, flour splotched all over her frilly green apron, a mixing bowl clutched to her chest.

Saeran frowned and straightened, snapping the fridge shut. The LOLOL magnets on it jiggled, a chibi Jinx coming dangerously close to slipping to the floor. MC’s smile didn’t waver.

“Glad you’re here,” she said, “Could you help me? I guess my baking level isn’t high enough for this recipe…”

He twisted the cap off his Aquafina and took a long drink, the bottle crackling beneath his fingers. When it was empty, Saeran wiped his mouth on his sleeve and glowered at her. "Is that why the whole house stinks?”

“Yeah…” MC sighed, clearly ignoring his bad mood. “The first batch was a disaster.”

She pointed her spatula at a plate of black, crumbling discs on the counter.

Saeran let out a derisive snort. "What help can I be? I’ve never baked before.”

“Well… they say two heads are better than one, right?”

“Not if they’re both empty.” To punctuate his point, he tossed his empty bottle into the recycling and turned to leave.

“Oh, come on, Grouchy. It’ll be fun.”

He paused to glare back at her. “For who?”

MC’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed her spatula hand to her hip, smearing batter onto her apron. “ _You_ , I think.”

Saeran thought he was finally glimpsing a moment of impatience from her, but then her mouth curled into a sly smirk. “Since you have such a sweet tooth.”

He felt his stomach drop. “…What? What makes you say that?”

The smirk stretched into a smile and she shrugged, looking like the cat that caught the goddamn canary.  

"Oh, please. I saw the way you were eyeing that cake at the last meeting. I look at chocolate the same way.”

Saeran said nothing. He was sure his heart had permanently stopped beating. How closely did she watch him? How had he never noticed?

“ _And_  you take four sugars in your coffee.”

Saeran swore he could see a feather poking out of her mouth. Speechless, he turned and left the room.

Hours later, after the literal smoke had cleared, he crept back into the kitchen to scavenge for a half-singed cookie. He was disappointed to find the jar empty.

_What the hell? She couldn’t have ruined all of them…could she?_

_Damnit._

In a last-ditch effort, he peeked into the fridge and was surprised to find a small bow of chocolate-chip cookie dough sitting on the top shelf. Sealed with shrink-wrap, it winked up at him beneath the light of the fridge, a piece of masking tape stretched over the center. His name was scrawled across it in swirly, elegant letters.

Saeran snapped the door shut, watching the magnets shake. Jinx hit the floor this time, skittering across the tile to bump against his sneaker.

He glared down at it as his brain attempted to process the pressure building beneath his ribs. Was she playing with him? He could still see her smirking beside the counter.

The pressure increased, and he cursed. What the hell was it with her? What made him feel this way? This… what? Irritation? Madness? Affecti–

_Fuck it._

Fuck her and her attentiveness and her delicious, delectable  ~~gift~~   _trap_.

He turned on his heal to leave, but the promise of chocolate pieces and soft, sweet dough stopped him before he could flip off the light. Saeran clicked his tongue as he stared hard at the wall.

A full minute must have passed before his feet finally carried him back to the fridge. He slapped the Jinx magnet back onto the door and tugged it open… quietly.

Okay, so he wanted to eat it. So, what? It wasn’t because she made it. And it certainly wasn’t because she’d left it for him. He liked sweets, that’s all. If she asked if he took it, he’d deny it.

Nope. It must have been Saeyoung.

 

* * *

 

Saeyoung and MC tripped along ahead of him, arms linked as they strolled through the park. MC pointed out a large, flowering rose bush and made her way over to it, pulling Saeyoung in tow.

Saeran lagged behind them, his hands in his pockets. It was a warm, spring day, but he hadn’t felt much like leaving the house... though the flowers _were_ truly beautiful. They reminded him of the gardens back at Mint Eye headquarters. It was the one memory of that place he longed to retain. His one place of solitude.

"Come on, Saeran Choi!” MC called over her shoulder. “I know you want to see, too!”

She waved him over, a bright smile on her face.

“Roses are your favorite, right?”

There was no possible way for her to know that, but somehow, she did. Just like the sweets.

He felt a soft tug in his chest. When he finally stopped beside her, she pointed out a lovely, new rosebud.

“It’s an Amber Flush, right?” She turned questioning eyes to him and he nodded, holding back a smile.

“Yeah.”

“Thought so,” she said with a nod, “It was on the cover of that flower book you left on the couch.”

_Ah._

She moved to pat his arm and then seemed to think better of it, offering him a small smile instead. She headed off to join Saeyoung, who had taken a seat in the shade of an oak tree with his laptop. Saeran stared down at the rosebush, watching an orange blossom shiver in the breeze.

He knew he would eventually have to admit it.

Despite his best efforts, it was working. This… friendship bullshit.

Goddamn her.

Every day, he resented her attentiveness a little less; her  _questions_  a little less. He’d even started answering some of them.

He was losing mind. What was left of it, anyway.

 

* * *

 

“What flavor is your favorite?” MC asked, gesturing to the ice cream display.

He stared at her instead. It was the first outing they’d ever had alone, and Saeran wondered what possibly could have convinced Saeyoung to leave his favorite human alone with his unhinged, murderous brother. She waited patiently for his response, fog forming around the tips of her fingers where they pressed against the glass.

“Vanilla,” he answered.

As she turned to order, he realized she must have pushed Saeyoung into agreeing. She was certainly persistent enough to sway him. And his brother was already a fool for her.

“A vanilla, please!” MC piped to the man behind the display, “On a, um… sugar cone?”

She glanced over at Searan for confirmation and he gave her a nod. She smiled at him; a full, honest smile. It summoned that familiar fuzzing in his chest and he had to look away.

“And I’ll have chocolate,” she added, turning back to the man, “On a waffle cone. Two scoops, please.”

After a few minutes of waiting (and a last-minute request from MC for sprinkles), the man handed over two elegantly crafted ice cream cones. MC offered a sincere thank you as she stuffed five dollars into the tip jar, and the man smiled kindly at her as she turned to hand Saeran his cone.

 _Maybe Saeyoung isn’t the only one_ , Saeran thought, watching the ice cream man watch her. She slipped out the door and Saeran followed her.

They walked in aimless silence for a long time. The sky was wide and clear above them, a solid, steady blue reminiscent of summer even though it was barely April. Saeran was watching a particularly large robin flutter by when she suddenly spoke.  

“Okay.” Her voice was muffled by ice cream. “Favorite movie?”

He shot her an annoyed look, but she had grown desensitized to his glowering.

“Come on,” she prodded.

He was quiet for a minute before grumbling, "I don’t know. Never seen one.”

She looked at him like the sky was falling. “… You’ve never seen a movie?”

“No.”  
  
“How is that even possible?”

He shrugged. “Plotting to murder my brother and destroy his charity organization didn’t leave for a lot of free time.”

She waved his bitterness aside. “Saeyoung has an entire  _wall_  of movies, Saeran. You’ve been living next to them for six  _months_.”

“I prefer reading.”

“Really? How do you know?”

He rolled his eyes and bit into his cone. “Fair enough.”

They came to an empty park bench and she stepped up onto it, walking across the seat.

“Be ready to watch one when we get home.”

He shook his head. “I’m busy — “

“You’re not. You’re just being stubborn.” She jumped back onto the sidewalk. “A murder mystery, I think. Ever read anything by Agatha Kristy?”

 

* * *

 

Saeran and MC sat in the darkness of the living room, their bodies curled beneath a blanket on opposite sides of the plush, leather couch. The TV bathed their faces with light.

The film was decent, much better than Saeran had been expecting, but he caught himself watching MC more than the screen. She knew every line. She mouthed them silently… when she wasn’t stuffing popcorn past her lips.

She shifted on the couch and stretched, and her toes brushed against the outside of his thigh. Saeran felt the air rush out of his lungs.

She withdrew almost immediately, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and stop her. It was ludicrous. His fingers gripped at the arm of the couch.

“Sorry,” she murmured beside him.

His heart hammered in his chest. He considered leaving the room. A month ago, he would have. So, why didn’t he now?

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

“Did you like it?”

“The end was shit.”

MC laughed; a raucous chorus of throaty chortling he had begun to associate specifically with her. She looked  ~~adorable~~  odd standing in the doorway, wrapped up in her oversized blanket and staring at him with sleepy eyes.

“That’s true,” she yawned, “The book’s better.”

“What do you mean? They changed it?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Guess they thought audiences would like it more. They do that pretty often…”

“Makes no sense.”

She laughed again, softer this time. “I agree... Though, I guess I understand the change. The movie leaves people with hope.”

“…But you like the book better?”

“Well, yeah.” She readjusted her blanket, holding it together beneath her chin, “I like the honesty of the novel. Some stories are meant to offer hope, but this wasn’t one of them. It… well, I don’t want to spoil it. Read the book and we can talk more about it.”

The next day, Saeran finished the small novel (which was in Saeyoung’s collection, surprisingly enough) and decided he preferred reading after all. Hollywood was in the business of destroying classics rather than showcasing them, apparently.

Still, when MC pulled him into the living room a week later to watch  _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ , he didn’t complain.

 

* * *

 

“What’s this?”

MC grinned up at him, shoving Stephen King’s  _Under the Dome_  into his hands.

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” she insisted, “It’s 1,074 pages of  _gold_.”

Saeran stared down at the book. It had been well used, the hardcover torn at the corners to reveal the cardboard underneath. He opened the cover and flipped through the yellowing pages, frowning at the countless dog ears inside.

“… The condition is awful,” he murmured.

"What?”

He turned the book to show her a page that was folded over twice. “Ever hear of a bookmark?”

Her face narrowed in irritation. He found it charming but pushed the feeling away.

She put her hands on her hips. “ _You_  ever hear of manners?”

“This is a crime against books, MC.”

"Fine. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”

She made a grab for the novel, but he jerked it out of her reach. Maybe a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. It’s ugly, but I’ll read it.”

She crossed her arms. “It’s not ugly. It’s just… well loved. I’ve spent more time with that book than I have most people.”

Saeran tucked the tome under his arm. Knowing she’d entrusted him with such a personal treasure had his heartbeat fumbling all over itself. Damn thing.

"The RFA’s resident social butterfly?” He said with a snort. “I doubt it.”

A flicker passed through her eyes, like shutters closing, and a heaviness he’d never seen before lowered over her face. When she spoke, the tone of her voice sounded almost self-deprecating.

“Yeah, well…” She tugged at the sleeve of her pajama top and looked away. "I was more of a wallflower before the RFA.”

He’d upset her. A flash of anxiety worked into his chest at the realization, and it escalated into a mild panic when he realized he had no idea how to fix it.

“I went to a private school and didn’t have many friends,” MC continued with a shrug, “so I used to spend a lot of time reading… or messing around with my PC.”

Saeran couldn’t help but picture her alone somewhere, curled up on a bed and pouring over the book beneath his arm. He pressed the tome tighter against his ribs.

Her eyes moved back to him, thoughtful. “I guess I was a little like you.”

He stared down at her in silence, the words "like you” circling in his brain. After a moment, he forced his mouth to work. “…Like me?”

She gave a firm nod. “Yeah. I think that’s why I like you so much.”

Saeran’s chest tightened, his heart spilling heat that pooled and splayed beneath his skin. He felt it rise into his cheeks and hoped the dim hallway would hide the flush.

“Well,” MC added, looking shy, “ _and_  because I’m so grateful to you.”

A splash of cold brushed through him, tempering the heat. “… For what?”

“For introducing me to the RFA, of course.” Her voice was gentle. "Without you, I never would have made such good friends. Or found Saeyoung. I’d probably still be at home reading…”

Saeran shook his head.

Just like that first day when he’d returned her phone, she didn’t know what she was thanking him for. Even now, as she stared up at him with those shining, golden eyes, he was reminded of how badly he had longed to snuff them out. To turn them green and dim and nauseating.

Even worse, he knew Unknown had dreamed of taking her for himself. He would fantasize about her in the early morning, when the work was at a standstill and sleep was far off. Pretty and quiet, he would picture her in his workroom, a living doll awash in the glow of his monitors, her bright, vacant eyes shining with his reflection.

They had come close to that reality. Would likely have achieved it, if he’d been quicker that day at the apartment. She had no reason to be grateful to him.

“MC, I…” His voice was thick in his throat. “I wasn’t...”

“Oh! Oh no, Saeran, I know,” she blurted in a rush, trying to soothe him, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to… It’s okay. I know your reasons weren’t… I… I shouldn’t have said anything, but…  well, Saeyoung is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thought you deserved to know that I…”

She trailed off and bit her lip, something Saeran had realized was a habit of hers when she didn’t know what to say. Her eyes moved somewhere far over his shoulder, lost in thought. When they came back to him, he felt his heart twist despite their glow. She spoke with new determination, 

“Whatever has happened, you  _deserve_  to know that Saeyoung and I, and so many others, are all grateful that you’re here… even if you’re not grateful yourself.”

Saeran didn’t know what to say. There was a ringing in his ears, soft and quiet, and somewhere deep inside him, he felt a wall crack. MC looked uncomfortable in his silence.

“Well, uh,” she mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear. Saeran thought he saw a touch of pink in her face and could barely contain himself from reaching out to touch her cheek. The implication of that urge terrified him. “I should probably check in with Saeyoung about tomorrow’s meeting. See you later. Let me know how you like the book, okay?”

She skirted around him and vanished into the living room, her slippers clacking against the wooden floor. Saeran stared at the space she’d abandoned in front of him, his fingers still tingling with the thought of her skin, and tightened his hold on her novel. 


End file.
